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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343441">Unripe Apple</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkiedandClear/pseuds/BlueSkiedandClear'>BlueSkiedandClear</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>King Arthur (2004)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apples, Archery, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, One Shot, Poetic Tristan, Pre-Canon, Worship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:28:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkiedandClear/pseuds/BlueSkiedandClear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad sees Tristan as many things: brother, comrade, wizard, tracker, archer, mentor.<br/>One night, he discovers something very different.</p><p> </p><p>*So, this was a thread on my Twitter account, I decided to improve it. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Galahad/Tristan (King Arthur 2004)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unripe Apple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Link to the original thread:</p><p>https://twitter.com/EleSparkling/status/1358320163884572672</p><p>Lots of love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was Tristan who taught young Galahad archery.</p><p>At first, the beginner knight, still a child, looked at his older comrade, a boy in his late teenager years, with a bit of fear. He looked so much like the wizard of Galahad's grandma and aunties bedtime stories, a man with long hair, strange symbols on his garments, dark, mysterious eyes.</p><p>And there were his abilities, too, like magic powers: his skill in founding traces, already superior than anybody else, and his aim, always flawless.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad's arrows never reached the dummies in some deadly point. With growing frustration, the young knight watched his bolts hit arms, feet, calves, but never hearts, heads, necks. Galahad spent months praticing, his hands shaking for the effort, his arms hurting, still too weak. He felt very well the eyes of his brother-wizard on him, black as night, disapproving, judging, darkened by disapproval.</p><p> </p><p>Tristan never spoke to him, he really didn't speak to anyone, out of necessity, but twelve years old Galahad simply knew that Tristan despised his weakness. But he found hard to live with that knowledge. Galahad was young and he craved approval, especially from the most unrivalled of his brothers. Of course, they were all amazing in their skill, but Tristan... Tristan was always the one Galahad wanted to impress, but he couldn't see a hope in doing it, in the foreseeable future.</p><p> </p><p>That morning, Galahad watched his fourth, shaky bolt missing the dummy's heart, and hitting its shoulder, when he heard his voice:</p><p> </p><p>“ You're afraid of killing. ”</p><p> </p><p>Galahad turned, abruptly: Tristan stood a few inches from him, carving slight slices from a green, crunchy apple, his dark eyes fixed on the dummy. Galahad frowned:</p><p> </p><p>“ What do you mean? ”</p><p> </p><p>Tristan glanced briefly at him, throwing away the apple's core:</p><p> </p><p>“ Come with me. ” He commanded. Galahad considered refusing, but he followed him, eventually.</p><p> </p><p>Without a word, Tristan escorted him to the fort's orchard, stopped himself under the apple trees, and picked one fruit. Then, he looked at Galahad:</p><p> </p><p>“ I'll throw it, you'll hit it. ” Tristan instructed, simply. Galahad blushed, his young face darkened by shame:</p><p> </p><p>“ I can't. ” He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Tristan's stare hardened:</p><p> </p><p>“ Then, I'll hit you. ” He promised.</p><p> </p><p>Galahad blushed again, out of rage, this time. He opened his mouth:</p><p> </p><p>“ Wh-” He began, when a hard object thumped softly on his shoulder. Tristan had thrown the apple, as promised. Galahad grimaced, and drew his bow:</p><p> </p><p>“ Do it again, and I'm gonna pierce one of your eyes.” He grunted. Tristan smiled:</p><p> </p><p>“ Good. Your enemies are not gonna throw you apples, pup. ” He declared. Galahad frowned a little, at the petname, but stayed silent: even a mockery was better than nothing, from Tristan.</p><p> </p><p>They spent weeks, after that, piercing poor, innocent apples, but now Galahad's dummies were always mortally wounded. And his enemies, too, later.</p><p>Tristan had said Galahad was afraid of killing: it was true at that time, but now it was changed. Anyway, the boy never acquired a taste for it. He did what he had to do to survive, to help his brothers, nothing more.</p><p>Galahad couldn't really consider Tristan his friend, not like Gawain or Bors. He was a mentor, a teacher, not a buddy. But Gal trusted him, and sometimes, they went to the orchard to pierce some apples, just for practice.</p><p> </p><p>Years later, now adult, in a summer, hazy morning, Galahad found himself aiming at the same apples, alone.</p><p>Night before, something happened at the tavern, something which had upset him strangely and had exposed new, unexpected feelings.</p><p>Bors, Lancelot and Gawain were drinking, as usual, while Dagonet was quietly asleep on a bench near the fire and Tristan was peeling an apple in a neat strand. Galahad was watching the red ribbon coiling slowly on the wooden table: he used to observe Tristan's dexterous hands often, lately. While he prepared his arrows, while he was feeding his hawk.</p><p> </p><p>Lancelot gulped one sip of ale, watching Tristan with his eyes full of amusement:</p><p> </p><p>“ You're peeling that apple, like you're undressing a woman, Tristan. ” He stated. Tristan hummed, unimpressed:</p><p> </p><p>“ Eating and loving require the same attention. You won't break the peel or your lover's garment, in a silly haste.” He replied. Galahad's cheeks burned suddendly, for no apparent reason.</p><p> </p><p>Lancelot laughed:</p><p> </p><p>“ I didn't take you for a tender lover, Tristan. ” Tristan looked amused, too:</p><p> </p><p>“ I could be so, with the right person.” He affirmed, quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Bors cackled:</p><p> </p><p>“ Look at our grumpy tracker, a bastard face and a heart of gold! And tell us, is your paramour sharp and feathered as your hawk? ”</p><p> </p><p>The knights laughed, all used to mock a bit their comrade, who always seemed more human with his bird than with anyone. Except for Gal, maybe. Everyone knew his habit to call him “pup”, a familiarity he didn't grant easily. Gal laughed with them, but his heart beated faster: was really Tristan about speaking of love?</p><p>The man offered a crooked smile:</p><p> </p><p>“ My paramour is sharp, indeed, but also soft, as a river nymph.Their eyes are clear as summer sky, but piercing as blades. Their hair unruly, but lavish at touch as a wolf's fur. Their mouth, an unripe strawberry and their skin golden in daylight and silver in moonlight. I have loved them for a long time, and I could love them more than mountains' wind and forest's shadows, if only they would give me access to their wild heart, savage and shy like a wood's child. ”</p><p> </p><p>The knights had fall silent, in awe and wonder. Gawain cleared his throat:</p><p> </p><p>“ You sound like you're in love, brother. ” He stated.</p><p> </p><p>“ I could be. This is why I put attention in peeling my apple, as undressing my lover. ”</p><p> </p><p>He finished and excused himself, leaving the table with calm paces. Gal felt his head spinning and his hands sweating, fear growing in his heart. So, Tristan had a lover. Who was she? What woman could take Tristan's senses away? Gal never saw him intimate with anyone, but the man was good in keeping secrets, especially about himself. Galahad managed to drink and joke with the others, but once alone, he couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned, his guts tormented by fear, jealousy, anguish, regret. Maybe, his admiration for Tristan was something else. His desire to be always with him, the fondness he had for his wise silence, the beauty he found in his dark eyes. Even a child could understand what that meant. Galahad ached and ached, finding his love unrequited, just now he had discovered it.</p><p> </p><p>And so the dawn found him piercing poor, innocent apples again, picturing all of them as his broken heart.</p><p>He didn't hear Tristan approaching, he could never. He noticed him, only when his companion put his hand on his arm:</p><p> </p><p>“ Strange way of picking apples. ”</p><p> </p><p>Gal didn't reply, afraid of meet his stare, his emotions too raw, too unknown. Tristan sighed softly, and collected bow and arrows from his hands:</p><p> </p><p>“ Are you avoiding me, pup? ”</p><p> </p><p>Galahad shook his head:</p><p> </p><p>“ Of course not. Why would I? ” He retorted, stiffened.</p><p> </p><p>“ You tell me. I know when you're upset, Galahad. Did I offend you, in some way? ” Tristan asked. Galahad frowned:</p><p> </p><p>“ No. I... ” He hesitated: “ I didn't know you were in love with someone. It seems to pain you. ” Gal found the courage to look in his eyes:</p><p> </p><p>“ Have your paramour rejected you? ”</p><p> </p><p>Tristan stared at him, his expression unreadable:</p><p> </p><p>“ I never confessed, yet. ”</p><p> </p><p>“ Oh. You should, maybe. Let her know how you feel. ” Galahad suggested, his voice trembling.</p><p> </p><p>Tristan moved towards him, in a slow, smooth move, and placed his fingers under Galahad's chin, lifting kindly his face, to encounter his stare:</p><p> </p><p>“ Should I say them I love them more than mountains wind, more than forests shadows? More than freedom, than my hawke? I do. I love you more than anything and anyone, Galahad. ” He whispered, his eyes shining from the depth of his feelings.</p><p>Gal let out a shaky breath, just one second before feeling his mouth on his own. His hands found their way through Tristan's braided hair, his body pressed on the other's one, warm, solid, real.</p><p> </p><p>Their kisses became heated, ravenous, desperate in their urgency. Teeth nipping at their lips, tongues brushing, breaths caressing their skin. Years of oblivious and hidden longing poured on their bodies and minds.</p><p>Tristan hands crawled on his thighs, and he squeezed the soft flesh, tearing a moan from Galahad:</p><p> </p><p>“ Gods, I want you, Tristan. ” He mewled, against his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“ You can have me, sweet boy. Sweeter than apples, more beautiful than a winter dawn. ” Tristan praised in his ear, removing his skirt. Gal trembled, loosening his tunic's laces. The undressing was slow, attentive, worshipping. The young knight couldn't feel any chill, closely wrapped in Tristan's arms. He bit his lips, at the gentle intrusion of his long, strong but delicate fingers inside him. Once, twice, thrice, until his body was warm and welcoming.</p><p> </p><p>Stretched on fresh grass, Gal saw the apple trees above them, silent witnesses of their finally revealed feeling. The young knight gasped barely, when Tristan slipped inside him, and his pinkish lips stayed slightly parted, while he thrusted kindly, as promised.</p><p>He could really be a tender lover, caressing his hips, kissing his thighs, dark strands of hair swinging rythmically before his closed eyes. Tristan praised and worshipped his paramour, with actions as in words. Galahad never heard something more erotic than his soft sighs, his deep voice painted in pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>It was all so sweetly lustful, that Galahad reached climax slowly, building quietly in his limbs and resonating for long in his body.</p><p>He could feel its thrill even much later, in Tristan's embrace, while covering with feather-kisses his ornated, sharp cheekbones:</p><p> </p><p>“ I wish I realized earlier how much I love you. ” He sighed. Tristan smiled, caressing his curls:</p><p> </p><p>“ I don't. Love requires ripening, as apples and skills. You came to me when you were ready, as you hit the target when you were ready to kill. ” Tristan affirmed.</p><p> </p><p>“ Love and killing are the same? ” Galahad asked, surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“ Maybe. They surely require the same dedication. ” Tristan replied, and Gal smiled, barely.</p><p>Tristan never stopped being his mentor, in any way.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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